


The Tale of A Thousand Wedding Dresses

by lizandre



Category: Descendants (Disney Movies)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Childhood, F/F, Friendship, Internalized Homophobia, Isle of the Lost (Disney) is a Terrible Place, Not Beta Read, One-Sided Relationship, This is a pretty sad fic, Unhappy Ending, Unrequited Love, just be prepared
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-18
Updated: 2019-08-18
Packaged: 2020-09-06 22:07:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20298697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lizandre/pseuds/lizandre
Summary: Evie drew a thousand wedding dresses for Mal, but none of those weddings were ever meant for him.





	The Tale of A Thousand Wedding Dresses

**Author's Note:**

> one line in descendants 3 inspired me to write over 4k words about evie and it somehow turned sad

“I’ve only done about a thousand sketches of your wedding dress!”

Mal probably thought that was an exaggeration. Who could blame her, really, nobody would be that obsessed about their friend’s love life. But, alas, it was true. Evie sat in her cottage, looking over her sketchbooks. She was trying her best to focus on something, maybe a new project, or improving some old designs. Maybe thinking about what she’ll herself wear for the royal wedding. She stared blankly at the page, fiddling with a pencil in her hand.

Her mind went back to the events of that day. Hades trying to escape at the barrier. Ben proposing to Mal. Mal saying yes.

Evie stood up from the table and went over to her pile of sketchbooks. Her old ones, personal ones, ones she used for orders. She carefully pulled out one, and tenderly carried it over back to her working station. Only about a thousand sketches. They were all kept in one little book with a brown leather cover, which Evie had to make by hand, because about a month before they went to Auradon she stumbled upon all of them in a messy pile under her bed, and felt embarrassed for even keeping them. She didn’t have the heart to throw them away, but did want to minimize the chance of anybody ever seeing them.

She opened the book, and her gaze fell onto the first page, which was already yellowy because of time and because they didn’t exactly have quality paper on the isle. She drew this one when she was eight. It wasn’t what anybody would call a professional sketch, or a sketch of a dress in particular, it was a drawing of a wedding. Mal and Evie stood at the wedding arch, both with flowers in their hands. Jay and Carlos were in the background, both were stick figures, and the only way anybody would figure out it was them was because Evie helpfully wrote their names with arrows next to them.

Evie didn’t even pay any effort to herself: a plain white triangle of a skirt, blue hair represented by a bunch of sticks growing from her head, and a big smile. Mal was the one she spent most of her time on. Her hair was a series of complicated buns, some flowers, and braids. Her brows were furrowed, but she was smiling, the facial expression she used to make a lot when they were kids. Her torso was covered with roses, which looked more like a bunch of spirals, but Evie couldn’t be blamed for it: the only flowers she ever saw were either dead, or on the other side of the screen of an old TV. The roses were purple, just like half of Mal’s skirt. The reason the other half was blank was because as Evie was colouring Carlos told her that he heard that wedding dresses were supposed to be white, and Evie got really upset and cried for about 15 minutes before Carlos got to assure her that this dress looked great nonetheless, and that the rules can suck it for all he cares.

They wouldn’t be able to hold a wedding on the Isle anyway.

The second drawing in the book was more thought-out. It was done at the age of 11, when Evie had the time to think and come to the conclusion that all of that was rather silly, and that girls can’t marry girls, even on the isle, and that that dress never looked good being half purple and half white, and Carlos said it only so she would stop crying. And the silliest thing of all was showing Mal the drawing, and asking her what she thinks of it, but no worries, since it was all a joke, just like when Jay sometimes steals his friends’ stuff but gives it back, or when his father says that if he doesn’t bring him enough stolen things he might just as well sell him, or when Mal said that she liked the drawing and would bravely do anything to someday make it a reality.

At that ripe age of 11 Evie decided to draw a more realistic version of that dress. Something fully white. Something simple. Something that could, actually, become a reality. The dress that came out of that was plain, a white top with two thin straps and a white full-length skirt that hit the floor. Evie was proud of her maturity with her creation, and even put her signature at the bottom, and gave her drawing a name: “Mal’s possible wedding dress. Final Draft.”.

The next twenty-three pages were drawn two weeks later, dedicated to redesigning that dress. The first one tried to make the skirt just a bit puffier. The next three tried to work with the idea of a strapless top. The 5th added a ridiculous head piece, which was supposed to be a contemporary version of a veil. The next few experimented with length, and the ones after were dedicated to designing appropriate shoes. The final work of the series had notes all over the page, explaining every last bit of the dress, and it didn’t forget to specify that the flowers had to be chrysanthemums, more specifically purple ones, since purple was Mal’s colour.

About eight months, three weeks and five days later, when Evie already turned twelve, Jay got a hold of a set of coloured pencils and a nice sketchpad, and since to his father it had no use, Jay rather kindly gave it to Evie instead. He, of course, denied it ever being anything nice at all, since he chewed lightly on the ends of about four pencils, and he stole the white one, which was of course crucially important to Evie, and he also gave her a sharpener, which she could potentially cut herself with. She produced a lot of good drawings that very day, but the one that stuck out was another wedding dress drawing.

This one was more elegant, and the lines were sharper and more calculated than on previous drawings. She used dark blue for her outlines, since it was dark in her room and she couldn’t see the difference between some of the colours. The dress had exposed shoulders, but long, loose, half transparent sleeves. She had a belt around her waist, and her skirt was short in the front and long in the back. It was coloured, as evenly as Evie could manage, with a pastel purple, and gold accents, such as the belt or the inside of the skirt. That sketch brought Evie such immense joy at the time, that she concluded that designing dresses for Mal was something that made her happy. She decided, from that day forward, whenever life gave her a bad day, she would make a sketch of a dress for Mal. A dress that would be good enough for her to marry someone in.

What followed was a year of drawing dresses. Bad days happened pretty often on the isle, and at one point she might’ve rehashed some concepts, but Evie enjoyed the process of putting down the smooth lines on the page, relaxed by the light scratching sounds the pencils made when coming into contact with the paper. Sometimes the days were so bad she drew two, or, on especially gloomy ones, three sketches, and carefully put them away in a semi-neat pile under her bed, or, well, improvised bed. Sometimes she felt the urge to draw dresses when the day was alright, or even crossing that line of above average. Evie told herself she can’t do that, because the ideas in her brain are, after all, finite, and she just won’t have any left on a truly bad day if she wastes them all on good ones.

She quickly found a loophole in that rule, and whenever she wanted to draw a dress on a day that wasn’t bad enough, she would ‘accidentally’ hit her elbow on the door frame while walking into the room, and told herself that she was simply devastated by that occurrence, and should immediately produce another sketch to cheer herself up.

With this, she created a truly great number of dresses that year. Now, looking back at them, Evie noticed a lot of repetitive designs, and some lousy ones too, but she decided to overlook that. As she fondly turned the page over, more memories flooded back. These two looked all crunched up, like they dried up after getting wet. That’s because Evie was sketching them by the docks, and one of the pirates pushed her, sending her sketchbook flying into the water. He shouted that drawing outfits for her imaginary girlfriend is a waste of time as he ran away. It’s thanks to the fact that Jay and Carlos were nearby that the drawings were saved at all. Jay helped Evie up and shouted some snarky comeback while Carlos fished out the sketchbook. She tried not to cry in public, but was devastated. The boys took her to the hideout and said assuring things on the way there, like that the pirate was going to pay for how he treated her (Jay), and that the art was still recoverable, and the damage wasn’t that bad (that was Carlos).

She didn’t cry in public. Instead she cried in the hideout, under the table, with a pencil in hand and another dress on the paper.

After that tear-filled page there was a big hiatus in wedding dresses. Evie was 13 now. Drawing outfits for your imaginary girlfriend was a waste of time, especially when she will never return your feelings. Evie started designing outfits for herself. The overused purple pencil now sat in the very corner of the box, not being utilized at all. Evie drew hundreds of designs for herself: dresses, skirts, shirts, shoes, sometimes even fashionable bags. The semi-neat pile underneath her bed went untouched for months, until one day she accidentally found one drawing that fell from underneath her bed. It was a wedding dress; she could tell by the attempt of a veil on the head. By all the purple she understood who it was designed for. She was ready to discard it once again, but an idea struck her head. If it was a wedding dress, then who is she getting married to? And, more importantly, what are they wearing?

Evie took out a blank page and started to design a bride. The reason it wasn’t a groom, although being a viable possibility, was because she couldn’t wrap her head around drawing males, or at least that’s how she rationalized it. There was reason to believe it was more self-indulgent than that.

This dress was also in the book. It was on a separate piece of paper and was simply put in, so Evie took it out and put it into the light to see more clearly. The bride had a navy blue dress, with an enormous, puffy skirt, and a strapless top. She had white shoes and white lace gloves, and held a bouquet of blue chrysanthemums. Her hair was in a bun with a few loose strands, and there was the biggest smile on the bride’s face. A bitter-sweet chuckle left Evie’s lips as she looked at the design. What a nice fantasy.

She put this one on her table separately, and then continued to look through the rest of the sketchbook. From this point the drawings got more spaced out throughout the years. They marked more important memories now: one was created as a result of her finding some watercolours in the garbage the other day. They were a bit dirty, probably a result of yellowy water, but the colours were so tenderly put down that the sentiment mattered over anything else.

Another one was inspired by a new fabric imported from Auradon. It was shiny and noticeably changed colours under different lights. There was a big fight for it down at the docks, which got violent very quickly, but Evie didn’t need to physically have it as long as she had the memory in her head. Jay got a tiny scrap of it, somehow, which may have had something to do with the fact that he later needed to find some ice to put on his head, and Mal scolded him for being so careless and risking his life for some fabric. He remarked that it was probably shipped to the isle by accident, since there was no way the royal pricks would ever give the villains this luxury. He gave the scrap to Evie, making up some excuse that nobody would buy such a little piece from his father anyway, therefore he didn’t need it. It was also carefully put into the sketchbook, right by the drawing, and when Evie put it near the light and shifted it a bit the different colours glimmered in the beam, although the awe was now gone, since she has seen way more impressive materials at Auradon.

As she flipped through the pages, she smiled fondly at the bitter-sweet memories from her childhood. There was one she clearly remembered drawing: she was already 15 at the time, about a year before she went to Auradon. It was the day when she finally got a chance to see a real wedding on TV. Some minor royalties were getting married, and she remembered her mother got really huffy, and threw something at the screen, making the television malfunction and show static, but Evie still got a glimpse of the beautiful ceremony. It was being held in a garden with millions of different coloured flowers all around. The bride had a long, white veil over her face, but you could tell she was happy. Her dress was long and tightly hugged her legs, which one would think would be impractical, but she had no problem walking down the aisle. She had long gloves which went until about halfway of her upper arm, and she held a bouquet of white roses.

Evie didn’t get a good look at the groom, since she was completely mesmerized by the bride and her beauty. Her long, wavy blonde hair was bouncing slightly as the took steps towards the arch, and lovely music was playing in the background, although slightly distorted by the quality of the TV. That day Evie sprinted out of the house, down the street and up the stairs of their hideout and started sketching with a pencil. The dress she thought up was also tight, but short, since Mal would probably hate that much restriction to her movement. It had a big bow at the back, and velvety gloves. Evie spent about half an hour carefully drawing out a lace floral pattern on the dress, giggling while imagining Mal wear it. 

She almost got lost in fantasies, imagining dancing with Mal on her wedding, or taking a bite of the cake together (although it was hard to imagine how it tasted or how it would look, since wedding cakes weren’t exactly imported onto the island), imagined laughing and being happy with Mal, without any care in the world. Evie fell asleep with her mind in the clouds and her head on the sketches. Jay would later find her in the morning, and ask what the drawings were about. Evie would sheepishly smile, blush, and try to hide the pieces of paper while trying to make up some excuse. Jay would understand and wouldn’t press. He would just help her safely get home and hide the drawings from her mother.

The following year Evie didn’t draw many wedding dresses. She still fantasized, dozing off without realization, only to then wake up in shame, realizing she was dreaming about a thing that would never come true. She felt guilty about it, about having these thoughts, about not being able to stop them from creeping inside her head, guilty for involving Mal into this. Poor Mal, she would probably think Evie was some kind of freak if she found out. Evie wouldn’t blame her for it, after all, it wasn’t normal to fantasize about your wedding with your best friend. Especially if you’re both girls.

It all changed when she was swiped away to Auradon. She took all the sketchbooks, and this one went too. Auradon really changed Evie. She finally started eating properly, even if it still was hard after all the years of malnutrition. She got to live the life she dreamed of, with clean water for her watercolours, TVs that didn’t distort lovely music, and where Mal getting married and needing a dress wasn’t completely off the table.

Every night Evie would climb underneath her bedsheets with a flashlight and a sketchbook, and Mal would only hear rough pencil sounds on paper and quiet giggles. She would ask what was going on, but Evie just showered her in false excuses as her hand would transfer the prettiest wedding dress from her mind onto the page.

She would also fantasize more. As she passed the grassy fields near the school, she would imagine her and Mal escaping together in a dance, barefoot. They would swirl around together, until finally collapsing onto the grass and laughing their worries away. Or the two of them splashing each other in the enchanted lake, getting all of Evie’s latest dress wet. Not that she would care, since if that was the price to see Mal’s lips part in a smile, she would pay it without hesitation every time.

She would see them running around corridors together, staying up late talking to each other on school nights, having intimate moments in between classes. Hell, some of these fantasies came true, although something felt off about reality. The atmosphere, the intention felt different from what Evie imagined. Maybe it was just her mind glorifying mundanity.

Whenever she sketched a new dress, she would remember all these moments, all the intimacy, the touches, their foreheads pressed together, the light squeeze of a hand, the brushing of shoulders, and would pour all this tenderness into the page. It was hard not to imagine Mal wearing the outfits once they were done, Evie would often get lost thinking about her friend’s reactions. Of course, all of them were impossible, since she would never see the sketchbook or even know that Evie drew hundreds of wedding dresses for her every week.

Evie’s fantasies would only end when Ben came up to her, asking to design wedding attire for him and Mal, since he was about to propose.

She never thought about the weirdness of what she was doing before. Mal had a boyfriend. _Evie_ had a boyfriend. And none of them knew that Evie dreamed about her and Mal getting married since they were eight. None of them knew she’d drawn about a thousand wedding dresses already. None of them knew the truth about Evie’s feelings. Evie wasn’t sure she knew it herself.

A part of Evie hoped she would say no. Evie knew that part was selfish, and Evie knew it was unrealistic, and she knew that she should only care about what made Mal happy. But she couldn’t help but think about how she wouldn’t witness most of that intimate happiness she was hoping she would be a part of. She couldn’t help but think that whenever Mal said “I love you” she didn’t mean it like Evie did, and that Mal’s promise of making their wedding happen when they were eight was just a joke. Just like Evie’s entire existence was.

She drew a thousand wedding dresses for Mal, but none of those weddings were ever meant for him.

She closed the sketchbook, a bit too loudly, took a deep breath and put it back into the pile of her other works. Mal could get back from her meeting about today’s events any moment now, and it would be better if she didn’t see the evidence of her best friend pining for her. Evie carefully wiped the newly formed tears away from her eyes; if Mal saw that she was crying, there wouldn’t be an end to the questions, and that was the last thing either of them needed right now.

She sat down at her chair, took another deep breath, and waited for her _friend _to come.

It was truly a long and exhausting day for Evie. Discovering Audrey had gone evil, turning into stone, and her best friend saving Auradon once again. She was extremely proud, of course, but the fact that the wedding was creeping closer and Evie still hadn’t decided on a final draft was worrying. She headed for her work room in the cottage, already thinking about whether she should go more traditional or create something truly unique for Mal—

She stopped in the doorway, staring at an unexpected guest, who seemed to take an interest in something on her desk.

“Uh, Doug,” she took a few steps forward, unsure of what he was looking at. “What are you—”

“Didn’t know you were already thinking of the wedding,” Doug didn’t look up from the drawing so haphazardly left on the table. “It kind of puts me in an awkward position, I don’t even have the ring yet and you already planned out your wedding dress.”

He scoffed, which was supposed to come off as friendly and loving but ended up being a blade stuck in Evie’s throat.

“It’s a nice design though,” he smiled, making eye contact with Evie. She felt guilty for not returning it. She didn’t have the right to be so appalled by his actions, he means well and it’s not that Evie doesn’t love him, she does, but as a friend, as a colleague in their business, as a fellow classmate in Auradon prep.

“Are you sure about the chrysanthemums?” Doug looked back at the drawing, and all Evie wanted to do was to rip it out of his hands and put it away where it belonged. It wasn’t meant for him. “Aren’t roses prettier?”

“I don’t know,” Evie finally managed to push out of herself. “I didn’t really think much about the flowers.”

Lie. She thought about it for years and thoroughly concluded that it had to be chrysanthemums.

Doug looked at her, brows furrowed in concern. The last thing she wanted him to do was to ask more questions.

“Evie,” he said finally, with a fond smile on his face. “I understand how you feel.”

“Oh, really?” she doubted it.

“You feel like you’re inconveniencing me because you’re scared that we’re moving too quickly.”

She was scared. She was petrified. But not of the fact that they were moving too quickly, but of the fact that they were moving at all.

“And, Evie, it’s ok. It’s ok to want to move to the next level, and you can always talk to me about it,” Doug moved closer, taking her hand into his own.

If his eyes were a doorway to his heart, then it was certainly paved with good intentions. But, alas, so is the road to hell.

He closed his eyes and moved his face closer to Evie’s. A million thoughts raced through her mind, and she put a hand on his chest to act as a barrier. He fluttered his eyes open and looked at her with a silent question. In that split moment, her thoughts surpassed the speed of light. Did she want to do this? Her heart wailed ‘no’, the type of wail that echoed in her throat, and after failing to find an escape through the sealed lips resorted to creeping behind the irises of her eyes. But if she didn’t do it, what would she do? Continue watching the love of her life end up with someone else and waste away? Oh, and how much questions would she get if she ended up single. How many ‘So, got your heart set on anyone?’ will she have to treat with hollow smiles and emptier lies? How many times will her heart rip in two, how many times will she have to suppress the truth trying to crawl out of her mouth? How much more pain will it bring her?

Evie gulped silently, trying to swallow her feelings. After all, Doug is a nice guy. It wouldn’t be so bad to marry him. Marriage doesn’t have to be about love, just like her mother said. She mentally scoffed at that. Oh, what a naive child, thinking she could disobey her mother forever. She went full circle, right back round to being unhappy and unsatisfied again, and she couldn’t feel any stupider about it.

She tightened her grip around Doug’s shirt, and in one rough motion she crashed their bodies and lips together. The kiss was bitter, and she was trying her best not to cry. After it ended, she looked at Doug, who looked genuinely happy, and, well, at least one of them was. She made sure to put on a fake smile and laugh and assure him she will speak to him about all her concerns from now on.

After Doug left with a joyful smile, hers faded. She walked over to the table and picked up the sketch of a wedding dress she’s dreamed about when she was a child. She pressed it closer to her chest; maybe it can fill all the cracks in her heart and assure her she made the right decision.

Tears filled her eyes and she couldn’t choke them down anymore. She took a shaky breath and broke down.

“It wasn’t meant for you,” she whispered, her entire body shaking with the realization of what happened. “It was only meant for her.”


End file.
